


The Advent Of Something New

by robynthemagpie_writes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Advent Calendar, Christmas, Christmas Omens, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fire, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mistletoe, Nutcracker, Reindeer, Silent Night, Sleigh Bells, Snow, cranberry - Freeform, soft, tis the season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robynthemagpie_writes/pseuds/robynthemagpie_writes
Summary: A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 23





	1. 1: Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> My hope is to complete the prompt list which has some truly wonderful things to work with. All will likely be short and sweet, and I will update the tags as necessary. Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas.

It was a ragged looking thing, lying there on the ground at his feet, forgotten, discarded.

Half trampled by the look of it too. You could see the darker patches where the thoughtless hordes had stamped at it, the stalks looking raw and ruined.

Made you think of grapes crushed under foot again and again and again to make the wine they carried in their polystyrene cups, boiled up with spices and fruits, warming hands and condensing on noses reddened and pinched by the cold.

Crowley didn't think you could make wine from mistletoe, though. Not worth the drinking, anyhow.

He was drawn to it, the little sprig of it touching the dirt for the first time ever, he would wager. He knew all about mistletoe, parasite that it was, growing in great balls of glossy evergreen and scatterings of pearly-whiteness.

He looked around; there were no trees nearby, nowhere for it to have fallen from of its own accord. Someone must have dropped it then. Thrown it away. Given it up as a bad job.

He knew all about mistletoe, stupid tradition that it was, something the humans had come up with long ago, a symbol of virility, fertility, festivity, and love. Nonsense. Obviously.

He stopped.

He stooped.

He collected up the battered little thing.

He thought about it, thought about the blinking of an eye and his own Christmas Miracle to make it strong backed, fresh, and crisp once more. He looked at it again. Brushed off the worst of the dirt. Good enough.

He held it delicately between thumb and fingers behind his back.

"Hey, Aziraphale…"


	2. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else dreaming of a White Christmas? Well, if you live on the wrong half of the globe for that then you'll have to keep dreaming like me. Maybe this will help.

Aziraphale should like the snow, he knows he should. 

Mile-high piles of it gathered at the door.

Feathersoft clouds of it floating from the heavens.

Wide sweeping blankets of it tucking the world up to bed.

It is all of the things he normally loves, all of those and more.

If the door is barred: build a mile-high fire in the grate, take a plate and pile it mile-high with spiced biscuits, sit in your softest armchair with a mug of cocoa and your favourite book and journey to another world.

When the flakes are falling: take your wings out to touch the snow-light of the day, stretch them far and wide and feel the tingle of snow-feathers against your own. Tilt your head to the sky and feel them tickle your nose and your cheeks.

Once the ground is covered: turn the shop sign to Closed, make your way to the overstuffed mattress and cloud-like pillows upstairs, sink beneath woollen blankets, tuck yourself up to bed.

He can't help but think, though, how much better it would be with two. With some company. With… well, he knows with who.

But Crowley has been sleeping a lot lately. He hasn't been by in a while. It's not unusual really, not at this time of year. Not when the weather turns cold and cruel and the deep-down nature of his being struggles to keep pace with the warm-blooded folk around him.

Still, he can't help thinking how much better it would be with two.

He would smile indulgently as he handed down the packet of biscuits from the cupboard, roll his eyes at the book being read for the umpteenth time that decade.

He would stand shivering but resolute in the cold, arms wrapped tightly about himself but for the odd flick of a wrist upwards to dislodge a falling flake daring to settle on his glasses.

He would...well, best not to think about that one, dear boy.

But he is not here, so the snow seems pointless. The biscuits remain uneaten, wings remain unfurled, and bedding remains uncreased.

The wind swishes.

Logs crackle.

The doorbell chimes.

A flurry of frozen limbs crosses the threshold.

"Crowley!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was strange to write whilst in 32degC heat! Hopefully be back tomorrow with Nutcracker!


	3. Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Them are making an appearance in today's Advent Box! I've been thinking about writing Them for a while now, so I'm thrilled to include Them in this. Enjoy!

_ Incoming video call: AntiChrist. _

He rolls his eyes behind his shaded glasses then hits the green circle.

"What do you want? We're on our way, we said we'd be there and we will…" A glance to his left, "though Satan knows why," muttered under his breath. A disparaging look and a huff are all he gets by way of reply.

"It's starting in ten minutes, and you  _ said _ you'd be here beforehand."

The face on the screen is rounded by youth and topped with a nest of straw-coloured tangles.  _ Halo of golden curls, that's what Aziraphale will be thinking. _ Another quick look at the face on his left confirms his suspicions; all doting and warm as it focuses on the screen.

"Actually, I think you'll find, Adam, that they said they'd be here  _ just _ beforehand," a disembodied squeak chimes in off screen.

"This is pretty much as ‘just’ beforehand as ‘just’ beforehand gets. Anyway, I don’t remember anything about ‘just’. They said they’d be here and they’re not.”

“Yes, but they did actually say ‘just’, Adam, because Mr. Crowley said that Mr. Aziraphale would ‘no doubt want to stop off for a little pre-show tipple’ and that he ‘had no control over him whatsoever, so don’t blame me if we’re putting our butts on the chairs as they’re dimming the lights’. Actually, I think I need to go and adjust my false moustache…”

He can practically  _ feel _ Aziraphale squirm in the seat next to him. Squirm with indignation because his demon was spot on. Squirm with delight because his demon knows him so well.

“Look...kid...we’re on our way, we’re driving, we left...a little later than we should have, but there was traffic getting out of London too, unavoidable. It’s not my fault they’re having to rebuild the entire M25…” A little cough and a raised eyebrow from the angel. “Well, alright, yeah, maybe that one  _ is _ my fault, but I didn’t know it was gonna do  _ that _ , did I?”

“Are you going to be here on time or not? Because if you can’t handle the situation and make sure that you’re here on time, I can make sure that time forgets to make you late…” He baulks at that. Straw-head might have chosen humanity, but the powers were still all there, locked up in the little fragile humanness on the screen, and who knew what could happen if he started throwing that kind of ability around the place. No, no thanks, not today, one Notmaggeddon would suffice.

“I bet you could, Adam, I bet you could make time do anything you wanted it to. Go forwards, go backwards, go slow, go fast, skip all of the boring days like Wednesdays, just be the good days like Saturday, go slow and then fast, go fast and then slow…” Another voice from another Them.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m sure we can fix something up between us if we need to, not a problem, we’ll be there.” Someone protect us from small children. 

The picture on the screen blurs, jars, swivels, then another face, covered in paint and barely visible, rushes into focus. “Well you’d better, because I didn’t agree to take this stupid part and wear this stupid costume for nothing. What even  _ is _ a Nutcracker? Nutcrackers aren’t even Christmassy, we’ve got one in the drawer at home and it’s just metal and boring. This hat is stupid, it’s just another symbol of…” and thus begins the anticipated diatribe. They wait. And wait. And wait. He likes this one. She’s pithy. “...and the oppression of the masses.” 

“Yeah, sure, stupid hat, we’ll turn it into a laserblaster for you after.” A shocked intake of air from his angel and he adds quietly, “Not a real one, don’t worry, angel.” He gets a soft smile for that. 

“Awesome!” 

“Well, okay then, I suppose that’s alright. I told Anathema and Newt to save you chairs at the back just in case. Gotta go, gotta get my whiskers stuck on. DON’T BE LATE.”

_ Call ended. _

“Well, that was a thing. Remind me, angel, why it is that I’m doing this?”

“Because it’s Christmas! And because we haven’t seen the children or dear Anathema and her young man for an age! And…” a pause and a soft hand touches his cheek, “because you love me.”

His own slim fingers press those warm ones closer to his face. 

“Merry Christmas, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving this so much, thanks again to drawlight for putting the list together. See you tomorrow for some cranberries!


	4. Cranberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled a bit with this one today, but got there in the end! It's still the 4th somewhere, so I'm counting this as a win! Time for Madame Tracy to pop in to see us today, and she's having one of her gatherings...

It was a dark night and the cold lingered in the folds of the clothes of those who passed the threshold. Little light penetrated the gloom as the visitors took their places, guided instead by the faltering glow of candles scattered here and there. 

The sweet smell of frankincense and myrrh hung heavily in the close air of the room. It mingled with the scents of human life: tobacco smoke, curried meats, unwashed bodies.

Madame Tracy had hoped the Festive Incense cones would be capable of obliterating, not just mingling. Mr. Johnson would be in the circle today, and his presence always left an impact.

She waited for her little ducklings to settle in, took all necessary donations, and called for quiet so that she might begin the session. That was what she told them, at least. 

Whilst she waited the customary time to Build Atmosphere, she started to compile her Christmas shopping list in her head:

One turkey.

One packet streaky bacon.

One packet chipolatas.

One packet pork stuffing.

Big bag of potatoes.

Vegetables: I'll think about those when I get there; sprouts, of course, and Newt likes carrots, so I'll get some of those for him…

Gravy granules.

Condensed milk x four tins. Maybe six, now I come to think about it, Mr. S is going to be all worked up having people over… (a coy smile settles on her fuschia lips at the thought of the gruff old man sitting next door ready to bang on the wall For Effect when he heard her Shriek in Surprise).

Now, what else…

One packet of bread sauce.

Oh, yes. Cranberries. Now, where the Devil am I going to get hold of cranberries for the sauce…

_ Excuse me, good lady, but I'd be careful who you go asking for assistance when you're in The Circle, especially now that I jazzed it up a bit… _

OH DEAR LORD! (Muffled banging came from next door as Shadwell mistook this for his cue).

_ I suppose that might be a little better, but either way I wouldn't take your chances after what happened at the airfield, best if we all keep our heads down. _

Can everyone else hear you too, Mr. A? Or are you just in my head like before?

_ Just you, Madame, and I do apologise for startling you. _

How are you in my head? I thought that young Adam gave you your body back? I thought you were all fixed up again? Ohh, it's not gone wrong has it deary?

_ No, no, I was chatting with someone else, line was open so to speak, and I couldn't help overhearing...you've got a pretty good signal in there now, you know, it should make it much easier to be in touch with...um, what is it you call it...The Other Side… anyhow, you were asking about cranberries? For the sauce for My Crowley?  _ (It was possible to hear to pride in his voice when he said  _ My Crowley _ ).  _ He's very particular about it, I really wouldn't mind making it myself and bringing it along… _

Oh, don't be daft, you old silly! You gave me the recipe, I've got everything else, the port, the cloves, the star anise, all I need now is the blessed cranberries and we'll be flying!

_ Well, if you're sure...I think you might find some, ehem, blessed cranberries have found their way into your kitchen and next to the pile of New Aquarians. Do let me know if I can be of any assistance… _

Alright, deary, I will. Better be getting back, it's been about the right amount of time, they'll be ready for a visit. See you on the day. Give my best to Mr. C!

"There's someone coming through… is there a Mr. Johnson with us today?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright then, thanks for reading, and it'll be Fire tomorrow.


	5. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wrote most of this on the right day, then fell asleep, but here it is now. I bring you...FIRE.

She had asked to see the box when it arrived. There were collected mutters and whispers, shuffled feet and uneasy glances between neighbours.  _ Here we go, we're all in for it now. _

Some looked ill at ease, others looked delighted.

It was a standard brown cardboard packing box, sealed shut with standard brown plastic tape, and it bore the label of the shipping company on its side, which looked remarkably like feathered wings from the right angle. In the great tradition of parcels the world over, it was late. A few months late, in fact. Apparently there had been a mistake with the address and it had been flitting back and forth across the cosmos until, at last, it reached its destination. 

Gabriel held it in front of him and stood, for once, uncertain. There had been a lot of that going around recently, and even the treasured Archangel had not been immune to the occasional fit of indecision. He didn't like it, not one bit. He waited. 

_ You may bring it to me, Archangel. _

"Yes, Lord," he replied solemnly. Placing the box into the outstretched arms, Gabriel gave a deep bow, his hand coming up to touch his heart as was the custom. This done, he retreated to his position at the front of the gathered crowds.

She took her time with it; one might say She was enjoying the tension building around her as She carefully peeled back the tape and lifted the flaps one at a time. She had been... unpredictable lately. Who knew where this would all lead. 

First, she removed the scorched and blackened crown. Then the twisted and mangled scales. Then, at last, the sword.

The flaming sword. She remembered it, ablaze and whirling above that white-blond hair, wielded by one who would rather die than do the wrong thing back then. She remembered him at the airbase, holding hands on one side with The Antichrist and lifting this sword aloft on the other. A half smile played upon Her lips.  _ You've still got that fire in your belly after all these years, haven't you, Aziraphale? _

Gabriel seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. "Lord, you know what happened, what the folly of the Principality known as Aziraphale cost us all...he and the demon Crowley have been conspiring, it seems, and managed to completely derail your Most Holy Great Plan. He is obviously more powerful than I realised, and I most humbly beg your forgiveness for my oversight. He is dangerous, with or without the flaming sword. What would you have us do with him?"

_ 'Do' with him, Archangel Gabriel? What would you suggest? I know about what you all tried to 'do' to both of them before. I know,  _ She glanced towards Michael, _ About the bath in the basement and the bonfire in the loft. They fooled you once, what makes you think that they wouldn't do so again?  _

"Lord, forgive us, we only sought to rectify a terrible mistake, we meant no offence…"

_ None of you ever do.  _

She sighed and cast Her mind about, finding Aziraphale quickly and exactly where She thought She would. She watched him down there, as he bustled about making tea in the kitchenette of his bookshop, saw him carry two steaming mugs through to the comfy sofa in the reading nook, witnessed the flush of pleasure that coloured his cheeks as he handed one down to the demon Crowley before he perched on the seat beside him.

"It's a special Christmas blend, thought it would help put us in the mood for the festive season," he said brightly.

"Angel, since when did you need help getting into the festive mood? I've seen Christmas trees less festive than you," replied Crowley as he sipped his drink.

"Well, alright, when I say 'us', what I really mean to say is...what I meant was…"

"Me. You meant to put me in the festive mood. I know, angel." Crowley's voice softened and he reached out a hand to rest over Aziraphale's where it was fidgeting with a loose thread on the upholstery of the couch. "Look, I'm here sitting on the sofa drinking tea with you, and I get to spend the rest of eternity doing the same, hopefully. There's nothing for us to do now but to enjoy the time that we have, and to enjoy it together. I don't need festive cheer, angel, I've got all the peace and joy I need right here."

He raised their clasped hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on Aziraphale's thumb.

"I love you very much. I have to tell you something though," Crowley added, looking forlorn.

"What, my dear?"

"This tea is awful."

She withdrew from the scene and came back to the bright space and the waiting angels.

_ I suggest that we leave The Principality Aziraphale well alone for the meantime. All of you. Now that has been decided, I have a question about rubber ducks. _


	6. Sleigh Bells and Reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late again, but here we are with Adam and Dog, deciding to make the most of playing in the snow. This ended up working nicely for the reindeer prompt too, so I've named it for that one as well in case I can't come up with another idea when that prompt rolls around...

It had snowed hard. Lots and lots of it. Piles of it lay collecting in the drainage ditches at the sides of the lanes, drifts of it nestled between the farmhouses and outbuildings, mountains of it filled every dip and hollow in the woods. Conveniently, the snow had fallen overnight, and even more conveniently, it had been just the right texture to lie down in to make snow-angels and pack together to build snow-demons. The weather showed no sign of warming and likely wouldn’t until a certain young boy decided that he had played in it enough, so the snow was staying put for now.

There was a sled. As befit the scene, it was an old wooden thing which appeared to be made mostly from rust and rot, and it was now sitting in pride of place in the middle of the front lawn of Adam Young’s house on Hogs Back Lane, being viewed with considerable distaste by Dog. Dog was a creature of simple wants these days. It had been a shock initially when, upon exiting the underworld to join his mighty Master to commence their mission (code-name: The End Of The World) he instead found himself being shrunk down and ordered to sit, drop, and roll over. However, he had been happy enough to adapt to his new role and embrace what life threw at him. 

This was a step too far though. No, he was a Hellhound from The Deepest Pit; this was demeaning. It was bad enough that Adam had put the harness on him- they normally just used his collar and lead when they went for a walk, and the new addition was bulky and uncomfortable. He had tried scratching it off, but had only fallen into the snow for his troubles. Since he was already damp by then, he had tried rolling it off, but all that had achieved was to obliterate one of Adam’s snow-angels and he had received a stern look for that. So he had given up and sat awaiting further instructions, a baleful look on his scruffy face. But what came next, no, that was too much. He could not,  _ would not _ , wear the antlers. That was a no. What if next-door’s cat saw him? He shook his head, grizzled and growled, pawed and batted at them, until eventually Adam gave in and left them in the snow.

This compromise reached, what now? Adam proceeded to attach the harness to some lengths of rope tied around the front runners on the sled before standing back to admire his handy work. Dog could not have looked less amused if he tried. 

“It’s missing something, isn’t it? Something other than the antlers,” he added pointedly. “Hmm, it needs something...Christmassy. What’s Christmassy...oh! Yes, I’ve got it!” Adam paused briefly to check that the coast was clear then, wrinkling his nose a little with the effort, thought some bundles of holly and ivy into existence along the sides of the little wooden crate, adding some tiny silver bells for effect. The angel and demon wouldn’t approve of him using his powers like that, but Adam didn’t much care. It was Christmas after all. He smiled. “Perfect!”

Clambering into the rickety thing and seating himself as comfortably as he could, Adam grasped the ‘reins’ in his hands and waited. “Well, go on then, Dog. Off we go!” 

He shook the reins a little. Dog did not move.

“Look, we talked about this, you have to be the reindeer... reindog… reinhound? It won’t work otherwise, and I promised the others that we’d have sled rides when it snowed. Don’t give me that look! Just because you’re all compressed down into that shape doesn’t mean that you’re any less powerful than you were before. I know you can do it…” Adam tailed off.

Dog tilted his head to the side thoughtfully as he considered this. Adam was right after all; he might be small, but he was still a hellhound, wasn’t he? He could still instil fear and leave terror in his wake? (Not in the case of next-door’s cat, but he was working on it.)

A small glimmer of red entered Dog’s eyes and electricity seemed to spark along his spine as his hackles raised and static crackled in his fur. Teeth bared and head down, the hound recalled a little bit of Hell, and Dog The Red-Eyed Reinhound drew his master across the garden towards the open gate with ease. The jingling of the silver bells as they went added to the overall atmosphere of chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was wacky! Silent Night up next, and time for something a bit soft I think. Thanks for reading!


	7. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of 31 themed stories for the festive season, based on drawlight's Advent Prompt List. The common threads: an angel, his demon, and the magic of Yuletide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back for some truly Softe Silent Night now. Soft, soft, soft. This advent writing is really helping to put me in the festive mood, so thank you again to drawlight for coming up with the list.

_ Silent night... _

Crowley creeps on tip-toe up age-worn stairs, lets the eerie silence of the landing above swallow him up as the darkness closes in from all sides. The darkness knows one of its own and welcomes him back to the shadows. The snow outside deadens every noise, the night sky glowing pink and orange from the street lights reflecting on pregnant clouds above. The world is born anew with every fall of fresh white flakes.

_...All is calm... _

He reaches the landing, lets socked-feet sink softly into the ancient carpet (still raised and warm after decades of use, by one miracle or another), and stops to listen. Nothing. Nothing is stirring, not even an angel. The door he heads for is ajar and he pauses, a shadow in a world of shadows, reluctant to disturb the calm within, but aware that he will know no calm himself until he does.

_...So tender and mild... _

The reflected light from the glowing clouds bathes this room of repose in a hazy warmth and settles gently on the round-cheeked face resting upon the pillows of the bed. Crowley feels the tension slide from his shoulders (yes, like water from ducks) to be replaced with tender affection, and the pit of nerves sprouting in his chest begin to wither and die. On this occasion he welcomes such behaviour. The expression on those smooth cheeks is one of mild amusement, and Crowley can almost hear his angel laughing at his folly.

_...Sleep in Heavenly Peace _

His heart skips and lurches as he lurches and skips across the floor to scoop the sleeping form into his arms. All thoughts of quiet and stillness leave him; he needs to hold that beautiful being, needs to be sure he is real, needs to know that he is there and safe. Sleepy eyes flicker open as Crowley moulds his body around the other, wrapping them both in his arms and wings and love. Feeling truly at peace at long last, Crowley breathes soft kisses into white-gold hair, and whispers “Sleep, angel. Sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I want cocoa and a blanket now. We will be meeting for Choir tomorrow...


End file.
